


fit for a prince

by sugarspoons



Series: in any universe, it's always you [1]
Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Prince! Jinwoo, Princes & Princesses, seunghoon dances n jinwoo is like oh shit, thats the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-10-27 14:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20761550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarspoons/pseuds/sugarspoons
Summary: in which prince jinwoo won't sleep with his consort because he doesn't think the latter is attractive. little does he know, seunghoon is very attractive.





	fit for a prince

Life at court is generally harsh. His days are packed, classes on etiquette and order, on state affairs, on court decorum, on family. Every single aspect of his life, it seems, has been mapped out, perfected, pre-destined. But for now, as prince and not yet king, Jinwoo relishes the minute liberties he still has. In brief lapses of emptiness in this schedule, he walks the gardens, plays with his cats. On occasion, as a special treat, watches the performance troupes in the square or the rare travelling threatre.

More often than not, though, the most common form of escape Jinwoo finds is late at night (or early in the morning), wrapped up in the embrace of another chasing the highs of physical pleasure. If there is one thing he does not lack, it is earthly affections, by virtue of who he was born. Jinwoo has learnt not to question too much, take what he can get. Finds refuge in giving in to his most primal desires, in letting his body take over. To be able to let himself go, even if it is for the briefest of moments, when in all other aspects of his existence he must be prim and proper and always conscious, is exhilarating, freeing. 

On an early summer evening, Jinwoo is brought a new one, an interruption to his favoured roster. He is lounging in his chambers, applying daubs of lavender oil to the nape of his neck and smoothing rosewater into his skin. There is a knock on the door-- his maid-- "Come in!" he calls. It is seven and the sky is just starting to turn a mottled purple-pink. He hears the heavy brass doors swing open, footsteps, sure and steady, the tap of clogs on his wooden flooring. 

Jinwoo takes his time, not yet turning, carefully running oil and myrrh through his locks. Adjusts the gauzy gossamer robe around his shoulders. Finally, he rises from his bronze vanity, delicately slips bare feet into sandals. When he finally meets the consort's eyes, he finds he is unfamiliar with this particular pair. The face that they belong to is different from what he is used to. This one is unlike what he is used to. 

Unlike Minho, who is breathtakingly intense, all defined lines and high cheekbones, deep eyes and dark stare, tan, beautiful skin, always fire and heat. Or Seungyoon, who is soft where Minho is sharp, plush cherry mouth and pale long neck, pink cheeks and elbows and delicate hands. This boy is lanky, too lanky, even awkward. His eyes are keen and sharp, Jinwoo thinks they are cunning, none of the softness or intensity he likes. The consort is neither stunning nor offensive. Clean and boyish but boring.

Jinwoo cannot even find it in himself to be upset. More disappointed if anything. "I'd rather not," he says, before the boy has even had the chance to introduce himself. Normally, such a direct statement would be enough. Jinwoo is well aware of who he is-- beautiful as much as he is elite, powerful. Intimidating.

To his surprise though, this boy doesn't even flinch. On the contrary, he simply gives Jinwoo a shrug, crossing his legs and leaning easily against a pillar. "My Prince, Seungyoon and Minho are both preoccupied this evening. Since I've already been sent to you, I may as well stay." 

Jinwoo is so taken aback by this audacity he cannot even find himself to be angry. "Is that for you to decide?" he manages, quirking his face into what he knows to be a look of displeasure, lacing his tone with condescension. He folds his arms into himself, feeling the cool silk sweep along his skin as his sleeves slip back over his wrists. 

"Is that for you to decide?" the consort shoots back mockingly, in-- to Jinwoo's mounting surprise, a whiny pitch. "You just decided you didn't want to sleep with me."

Scrunching up his nose, Jinwoo crosses his arms and stays silent, making his way across his room. He perches on the edge of his bed, swings his legs up and folds them into himself. Stares pointedly at the consort who is glaring right back at him. 

"I get to do that. And, I don't need to justify myself. But you don't seem like you'd be much good, so I think that's perfectly fair."

"It's literally my job," The boy is glowering at him, and Jinwoo realises with a start how tall he is. "You presume-- you're impolite."

"_Impolite? _" Jinwoo cannot withhold his incredulity, feet dropping back down to the ground. He rises, slow and deliberate, shrugs off his outermost layer. The chiffon cascades down his shoulders and Jinwoo knows he is putting on a show. Knows he is sensual and beautiful and _powerful_. "I am your _crown prince_."

All he gets from the consort is a contemptuous raised eyebrow. "So you're exempt from social norms?" the boy blurts. "Ah," he mutters, immediately, "I suppose you are." 

Jinwoo sends him away, feeling an odd mixture of annoyed and intrigued. 

~

The following evening is a muggy one, hot and humid despite a brief afternoon shower of rain. Jinwoo finds himself laying blissfully across Minho, cheek pressed into his tattooed chest. Minho is one of the few who has been allowed the privilege of decorating his body as such-- on anyone else it might be vulgar, but on Minho, Jinwoo feels, as he finds himself granting permission more and more frequently, they somehow only add to his rugged charm. Absently, he lets his fingers skim over the latest piece, a blue rose above his right chest. "You seem off today, my lord," Minho says, running a hand through Jinwoo's damp hair, "What's troubling you?" 

"They brought a new one to me yesterday," Jinwoo murmurs into Minho's skin. 

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, and Jinwoo feels the pleasant tremors against his own body. "And what did you think?" the consort asks. 

Jinwoo feels his mouth souring into a pout. "He is hardly as beautiful as Seungyoon, nor as handsome as you are. I feel as though they are wasting my time." He feels Minho shift, whines as the warmth leaves him when Minho props himself up on an elbow to look at his prince. 

"With all due respect my lord, I think Yoon and I have spoiled you. I know I'm hard to beat--" a pause as he waggles his eyebrows suggestively, attractive face pulling such a goofy look Jinwoo cannot help but giggle. "--but you should give Hoon a chance."

"Hoon?" 

"Seunghoon hyung. The one who came to you yesterday," an amused smirk is playing on Minho's lips, "He's something else. An acquired taste." 

Jinwoo snorts, burrowing his legs into the mess of blankets gathered at his feet. "I'd have to lose my gustatory senses completely in order for him to be palatable."

With a snort of this own, Minho's weight lifts from the bed as he swings off, moving to towel himself down with the bedside basin of warm water. "He's been around a long time, he took care of me and Yoon when we first came in. The concubines clamour for him."

Petutantly, Jinwoo mumbles, muffled by his pillow. "Well, he should take what he can get."

A deep laugh as Minho flicks water playfully at his prince. 

"Oh, he will."

~

If dinners are quite an affair, the post-dinner entertainment is a hullabaloo. 

Jinwoo has dined alone today, with the rest of the royal family away on various business. He's not too hungry, has partaken of some rice and soup when he sets his spoon down. 

There are cheers and claps from those assembled as the music fills the hall, deep sound reverberating through the expansive room. It seems tonight's performance is one of song and dance, Jinwoo lets himself be led from the dining table to a better viewing box. 

The big brass doors of the room swing open, and the dancers pour in, kicking and swaying, bells around their ankles clinking merrily and brightly coloured scarves slicing prettily through the air. 

Jinwoo has never quite paid close attention before, preferring to be entertained by Seungyoon's music. His eyes are wandering the halls, he is mentally counting the number of crescents carved into the pillars, trying to approximate how many steps it would take to walk back to his bedroom, or perhaps the study, when his eyes lock onto a familiar figure.

It is that consort-- Hoon? And he looks nothing as he did in Jinwoo's chambers. He was in a simple linen shirt and pants then, plain and functional. This time he is dressed for the occasion, wrapped in breezy silk pants that balloon around his ankles, fabric dyed a rich wine red. Shirtless torso wrapped in sheer red chiffon scarves that bend and flutter around him as he moves. And as he moves--

Awkward long limbs become elegant, lithe and strong, he is no longer boyish as he swings, movements precise and powerful— Jinwoo drinks in the sight of the curve of his back and the dip of his muscles. It is as if he is saturated in colour, so intense as he dances. Each ripple of movement, each minute, perfectly timed sequence, he is fluid and mesmerising. There is kohl smudged dark around his eyes and his gaze! Calculated, sharp and piercing, and when his eyes meet Jinwoo's, Jinwoo realises his throat has gone dry.

Then Seunghoon snaps his hips. Jinwoo chokes. Spits his wine back into his goblet and tries to play it off. "Enough," he says weakly. He doesn't quite know who he is addressing. His command goes unnoticed; he clears his throat and says louder, "Enough!" 

"My Prince?" his head servant asks, looking as confused as everyone else. Someone hastily shouts an order over the music and it dies down abruptly. 

Jinwoo sinks into his chair, feeling flushed and suffocated, sweat beading the nape of his neck under his layers of velvet and silk. "I tire of this. That's enough entertainment for tonight. Take me to my chambers, and call Seungyoon to me."

On his way out, he pretends he doesn't see Hoon glaring into his back, sharp eyes narrowed and mouth pressed into a thin line. 

~

That evening, Seunghoon shows up to Jinwoo's room again. In a translucent white linen tunic, and his dark hair is slicked back and still wet from a recent shower. Smelling of spices and cinnamon. He brings with him a canter of wine, "Noticed you had difficulty keeping it in your mouth earlier." he remarks wryly. 

Jinwoo nearly chokes again. This is getting to be a habit. "You're blushing," the consort smirks, striding over. Jinwoo flinches back, hiding his face, the tips of his ears burning. 

"It's a pretty mouth," Seunghoon whispers lowly, and then Jinwoo feels fingers on his chin, tilting his face back to be eye-to-eye with Seunghoon. _He's not attractive. He's not._ But a flutter of something still sweeps through Jinwoo's chest, sparked by the performance at dinner. And Jinwoo wonders where the hell all this was that first evening, because up close like this Seunghoon's face is so manly and sculpted and his eyes are so _dark_. 

Seunghoon pulls away, dropping his hands back to his side as he moves to take a seat at the tea table. "Minho is at the summer palace working on his exhibition, and Seungyoon is entertaining the Queen," he says matter-of-factly, "So I'm here, but you're welcome to pretend I'm not."

Jinwoo snorts, recovering his senses, hoping the red in his face has ebbed. "Why do you even bother coming? I could have you executed for your insolence, you know this."

Seunghoon shrugs. "Spite. Challenge." Then, gesturing to his cheeks, "I'd also hazard a guess that you kind of like it." 

The prince scowls, glaring at Seunghoon. And then suddenly-- he's seeing flashes of red chiffon and muscled skin.

Stop. 

He huffs haughtily. "You think incorrectly."

But he lets Seunghoon stay this time. 

~

They are rocking down the streets in a rickety carriage; once a month Jinwoo likes to head into his city and just roam in the guise of a commoner. He has a small entourage with him, Jinhwan his advisor, two guards and two consorts for company, Taehyun and of course Seunghoon, who, he's learnt, is actually the head of all the Palace concubines. 

(He had been hard pressed not to think too much about what that means in terms of Seunghoon's-- physical talents.)

They are pulling into the marketplace when Jinwoo glimpses a group of thugs racing away, the last stall in the neat rows of shops completely trashed. Smashed fruit and torn wicker baskets dotting the sidewalk. 

"Stop the carriage." Jinwoo commands. 

He flips up his heavy cloak and moves swiftly in the direction he saw the gang head in. As he expected, just as he rounds the corner into the alley, he is surrounded. 

"Hello," one of them leers, gives Jinwoo a once-over. His eyes catch onto Jinwoo's feet. "Your coat's not long enough to hide those shoes," he sneers, drawing his lips back and spitting derisively at Jinwoo, shining globule of saliva splattering sickeningly on the cracked ground. 

There is a rush of movement and then a loud crack, and Jinwoo raises his head in time to see the consort-- to see Hoon-- absolutely _body _the thugs, strong arms and sure limbs and the biggest, meanest of them goes crashing to the ground unconscious, and-- 

_And_\--

_It's really not the time for thoughts like--!_

Jinwoo swings and a snap registers in his senses, he feels warm, wet on his fingers and knows with a pang of satisfaction he has broken a nose. Without missing a beat, his fist tightens in the fabric of the man's collar, and he yanks the bloodied face up to himself. 

With his other hand, Jinwoo peels back the rough canvas of the bulky brown hood and feels the sweep of his hair falling into his face. The scoundrel's eyes immediately widen in recognition and his mouth falls open, stuttering and useless as words fail him. "In twenty seconds, it will be your head-- and your family's, twenty minutes after." Jinwoo promises, and sure enough, in mere moments the thug has wrenched himself from Jinwoo's fist and scurried down the street, nose dripping blood in a meek trail of droplets down the pavement. 

"Okay, not going to lie," Seunghoon is still there, striding over, stepping nonchalantly over the unconscious body laying in front of him. Palms up placatingly, he says, "That was kinda hot." 

Jinwoo only sighs. "I keep saying this, but I am your crown prince."

Seunghoon shrugs, "You're stronger than you look. It's hot." Casually, the taller man raises his hand and his thumb is suddenly, suddenly on Jinwoo's bottom lip. 

Sweeping across his bottom lip. 

"Wh--" 

Seunghoon is already turning away to step back towards the carriage where Taehyun is gesturing worriedly. "Wouldn't want blood on our crown prince's cute face."

_He thinks I'm cute._

~

They are perched on a stone bench in the gardens, Seungyoon plucking indecisive notes on his lute as he works through his latest tune. Jinwoo has never been one for musical composition, but he finds that he is happy to enjoy the simple companionship, appreciates the way Seungyoon gets absorbed in his element. The air is sweet with smell of citrus and blossoms, albeit thick from the recent heat, and Jinwoo's fringe is starting to plaster clammily to his forehead. 

"How do you know you're interested in someone?" Jinwoo asks, as there is a break in Seungyoon's strumming while he figures out the next part. The latter looks up, a little quizzical. 

"That's a sudden question, my lord?" 

The young prince hums amiably. "Well, I thought you might have some insight given your romance with Consort Song." he says, fixing Seungyoon with a contemplative look and a dangerous tilt of his pretty head. 

Seungyoon starts, eyes widening, "My lord, you know I adore you--" 

Jinwoo only shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips. "I trust that you're fond enough of me, but adore is certainly strong— and untrue. You don't have to pretend for me." He knows very well that his two favourites only have eyes for each other, has smelt the delicate rose perfume he gifted to Seungyoon clinging to Minho's robes on more than one occasion. 

Seungyoon knits his eyebrows and frowns, as if trying to see if Jinwoo is joking or not. "I'm-- we're-- not in trouble?" he finally says, pink mouth pushed into a pout. Jinwoo cannot help but chuckle, reaching up to ruffle his consort's hair. 

"No, you're not. I've known since always. I don't mind. I treasure you both, and would gladly have you treasure each other."

He watches as Seungyoon breaks into a bright, gummy smile. And oh, how not to be soft for the younger man? Playfully, he leans in and nips Seungyoon's cheek. "But back to my question?" he asks hopefully. 

"If this is about Seunghoon hyung," Seungyoon says, and it is, because Seungyoon for all his sweetness is astute as they come, "We've all seen how you linger on him at the fortnightly dances. I'd say-- that's pretty clear you're interested," His tone takes on a certain smugness and Jinwoo tuts, smacking Seungyoon lightly on his head. 

He just laughs brightly, "For what it's worth, my lord, Seunghoon hasn't gotten his dick wet in a while. I think he likes you too."

Jinwoo tries to ignore the hopeful stutter in his chest. "He thinks I'm insufferable,"

"Yes, but he also likes you."

~

Minho says, "Have you tried 'Consort Lee I'm sorry I was an ass but I really want your dick in me right now'? It's kind of his job."

Jinwoo glares, although he feels the heat rush to his cheeks. "You're so tasteless." 

A shrug from Minho, "Okay, so wrap your ass with a silk ribbon." 

"Minho-" 

~

It's two weeks later when Jinwoo finally works up the courage to summon Seunghoon. He hasn't slept with either Yoon or Minho in that duration, and his two favourites are relentless in their teasing, saying they've outlived their use, saying they'll be jobless soon. Each time, Jinwoo huffs, "You idiots know by now you are friends more than servants." and he endures their needling. 

When the knock sounds at the door, Jinwoo's breath catches in his throat, nervous. Seunghoon steps in, hair soft and unstyled, top a little rumpled as if he's been caught off guard. "You've never explicitly called for me before," he says, bypassing a greeting. He actually looks a little worried. "Is everything alright?" 

Jinwoo clears his throat. "It's-- yeah. Sit." he gestures vaguely to the lounge. Still looking slightly perplexed, Seunghoon does as he's told, tapping his fingers on the seat, nails scratching the brocade disquietly.

A moment of silence stretches between them as Jinwoo paces. 

"So?" the consort says, impatient. "Gonna chew me out or what--" 

"I like you!" Jinwoo blurts. The embarrassment hits immediately and Jinwoo's hands fly to his face. So much for composure, so much for twelve hours of etiquette and poise classes every week because apparently he is, at heart, a stupid _schoolgirl_. 

The consort blinks. "Uh..." he trails off, looking more surprised than Jinwoo has ever seen him, a detraction from his usual confidence and swagger. "Okay... so like... is that..." he closes and opens his mouth again. Frowns. "So do I like..." Seunghoon's voice dies in his throat, bafflement definitely evident now and Jinwoo wants to die. Seunghoon's hands move towards his pants and start undoing the drawstrings and Jinwoo turns several shades of scarlet and he yelps. 

"No! Stop- I mean maybe later- at some point, eventually, yes, but not- oh my lord."  
  
"_You're _my lord." Seunghoon says stupidly. 

"I want to take you out! Like on a date. I _like _like you." Jinwoo says breathlessly.   
  
Seunghoon's mouth curves into an _oh_.  
  
The prince continues, "Can I- would you like to go on walks with me. And go see plays together, in the town square? Join me for meals, too."

Slowly, Seunghoon nods, "Yeah. Yeah we can do that. You're my crown prince. You kind of own me." 

Jinwoo sighs heavily. "It's been feeling like the other way around." 

They smile at each other, albeit a little shyly. 

"Please tie your pants back up."

~

Jinwoo sulks, "You didn't even think I was pretty that first night." The sheets between them are pleasantly warm and Seunghoon's scent is spicy and comforting. He is so safe and cosy and content. 

Seunghoon laughs, the vibrations in his throat buzzing against the side of Jinwoo's head. "I did," he whispers softly into Jinwoo's hair, "But I also thought you were pompous." A cheeky kiss to the forehead. 

"So you think I'm pretty?" Jinwoo murmurs, feeling silly and sulky all at once, nuzzling close to Seunghoon. "But you didn't want me then," he continues, pouting, burrows into his covers.

Gently tucking Jinwoo's head under his chin, Seunghoon wraps his arms around the smaller man. "_You_ didn't want _me_ then!" he chides.

Jinwoo huffs but doesn't pull away. "But I want you now." he whines sleepily.

Seunghoon chuckles, cups Jinwoo's face with his palms and dips his head to press a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose, his forehead, peppers his cheeks with little kisses until Jinwoo is a blushing happy mess. 

Presses a smile to Jinwoo's temple and whispers, "Yeah, same."

**Author's Note:**

> my 2am brain: Prince,,,,, Jinwoo?? 
> 
> also my 2am brain: say no more fam
> 
> (BALDT SEUNGHOON needs a fic soon. I'm not over his Avatar looking ass yet,,)
> 
> Thank you for reading and do leave a comment if you enjoyed this!


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